Every night the sky rips
to shreds,little pieces of paper
you hold on to,with your thoughts
hovering above empty graves
with nothing but you looking up,
from inside them...
Can we hold the firmament together with our thoughts? How powerful they must be. All that conspiracy :) A little spooky this poem...the graves open and gazing up. Makes me happy that I am a ground dweller...for now. Tomorrow the view always changes.
Can we hold the firmament together with our thoughts? How powerful they must be. All that conspiracy :) A little spooky this poem...the graves open and gazing up. Makes me happy that I am a ground dweller...for now. Tomorrow the view always changes.
ReplyDeleteAnnie,
ReplyDeleteindeed,we think too much about tomorrow's view...our escapism is what eventually leads us to the jaws of fate...